


May You Find Your Rest (in my waiting arms)

by OfSnakesLiesandKings



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Author is not good with tags, Aziraphale finds that cute, Crowley sleep walks, Fluff, HMCWTIYS, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, More comfort than hurt, No beta we fall like Crowley, Prompt Fic, all good in the end tho, ending with snuggles, mild mention of ptsd, post-apocolypse, short allusion/reference to major harm, slight angst, the idea in my head was too cute not to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:35:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29247387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfSnakesLiesandKings/pseuds/OfSnakesLiesandKings
Summary: Crowley was nothing like your usual demon, and this apparently extended to his nightly routine. Something Aziraphale was going to get well acquainted with.Or Crowley is a sleep walker and Aziraphale did not know that until the night after the failed Apocalypse.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80
Collections: USEDTOBEHMC_WRITING_CONTEST





	May You Find Your Rest (in my waiting arms)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for Usedtobehmc's Write This In your Style fanfic competition! I was not sure about the time zones and so have no idea if I'm late or not but hey I'm glad I finished this! 
> 
> This is based on Image 1.

The shuffling wasn't as startling this time around. Aziraphale, who was just mid way into his Sappho collection*, slightly turned his head to the left. Crowley had turned on his back and, still very much in deep slumber, sat up slumped on the mattress, the comforter halfway sliding to the floor.

(*He had found that at least an annual reading of the Tenth Muse would leave him with enough time to re-read any other classic he had been eyeing up.)

Aziraphale didn't move to stop or lay him back down.

Any surprise and worry had more than faded since the first night they spent together after their triumphant return from each other's executions. The night before neither could even spare a thought to relaxing or resting. The impending terror of the not-apocalypse lapsing into the looming danger of the repercussions. They weren't naïve enough to expect their former head offices to not do anything, but nor were they so optimistic that a 100 year old prophecy* would aid them in this situation.

(*Unfortunately it slips the mind of the author of exactly how old Agnes’s prophecies were, so I ask to be forgiven for any inaccuracies.)

No sleep was had that night, really no talking was done either after the Plan* was made and a few last toasts were had. It was the day after, when rightfully Aziraphale and Crowley would have parted ways following the extended nightcap at the bookshop as per tradition, when Crowley had suggested the angel to come back to his. 

(*Similar to the upper-case Arrangement.)

At said angel's mild surprise, the demon tried to stammer out some reason or the other as to still be on guard for a few days, _can't know if we are left alone for certain, better we are prepared together…_ But Aziraphale had smiled easily, maybe more easily than he would were he prepositioned like this just last week, and said that sounded like a wonderful idea.

And so they were back at Crowley's flat, this time led right to his glass door bedroom, and they both settled in for the night. And if it took Crowley more time than usual to get adjusted into a comfortable position and if Aziraphale did not seem to find exactly where he left off in a tale he was reading just a few days ago, well no observations were made out loud*.

(*Within the privacy of their minds was a different story, but it's far from my place to spill their secrets, where is your sense of propriety dear reader?)

Crowley had asked if Aziraphale was finally going to partake in the human business of sleeping and Aziraphale had politely declined, stating that he much rather make use of the quiet time to indulge in his reading instead. Crowley huffed and shook his head, but Aziraphale swore he saw a fond upturn of his mouth as he turned over. It made his own small smile, matching in its shyness, bloom on his face. 

Very quickly they descended into a serene silence only reached in those simple moments drawn back from reality, their own cozy bubble where the shadow of insecurity could not be found. It was probably why Aziraphale was quick to jump off his side of the bed* when Crowley, who had been rotating and twisting this way and that much like the serpent he was, sat up and stood next to the bed frame with an overwhelming amount of stillness. 

(*And what a shame that was, he was really snuggled in quite nicely.)

"...Crowley?" Aziraphale had tentatively called and upon no answer felt his heart drop to his stomach. 

And then Crowley had begun walking towards the door as if moving through molasses, and in a state of confusion, dread and worry, Aziraphale had quickly followed.

His steps quickened before Crowley had crossed the threshold to the hallway outside, and he managed to catch up to him and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. Crowley came to a halt mid stride, Aziraphale slowly shook him and called his name again. His growing fear was only soothed with the realization that Crowley did not appear to be panicked, or even in pain. In fact, his eye lids were half-closed and his mouth was relaxed; soft, small little breaths escaping every now and then. 

Crowley was still sleeping.

Aziraphale wanted to call out once more, maybe attempt to wake him up properly. But then he recalled a certain condition some humans were afflicted with, causing them to physically move or walk in a state of slumber. Aziraphale looked back at Crowley, at his dazed expression and how he didn’t seem to recognize the angel at all. Yes, there was no doubt, Crowley was sleep walking. 

The angel stopped trying to awaken him, that was the last thing you needed to do to a sleep-walker, but shouldn’t he be doing something? Lead him back to the bed, talk to him? Or coax him back to a fuller sleep?* Aziraphale was reluctant to use a miracle firstly because he did not know how a demon would react to being blessed and secondly they didn’t need to attract attention from Heaven so quickly after getting fired**.

(*Did human sleep walking precautions even apply to the demon version of it? This answer cannot even be accurately answered by the author, who is basing Aziraphale’s experience on their own and hence for the sake of the plot must say yes.)

(**Literally)

So instead, he followed Crowley as he slowly padded across the hall towards the kitchen. There wasn’t much in terms of appliances that would have made Crowley’s kitchen pass a human one, but that only meant there would be less means of him hurting himself on accident if he grabbed a sharp object or something from the cupboards fell on him. Aziraphale carefully kept his distance, still vigilant, as Crowley strolled easily between the island and stove, reaching out his hands as if picking up and looking at something placed on the counter, before placing it back down. He would sometimes grumble or grunt in obvious displeasure before moving forwards, his hand poised as if he had held a glass in it. 

Aziraphale could not say he didn’t find this scene a tad amusing; the serpent of Eden unsteadily trapezing through his own home and gesturing in the air. Mentally cataloging the moment, even as he resolved to tell Crowley of his nocturnal habits in the morning, he continued to diligently follow his friend as the latter navigated in his dream-scape.

Eventually Crowley’s walk led him back to the bedroom, where he promptly deposited himself face-down on the bed and let out a snore. Chuckling quietly under his breath, Aziraphale approached the now-still demon and adjusted his position to a more comfortable one, tucking the comforter back snuggly. He returned to his own place as well, picking up his book and glancing once more at Crowley’s sleeping form. He did not stir again.

Of course when Aziraphale confronted Crowley in the morning about his sleepy adventures he first flushed to the tips of his ears and then tried valiantly to deny any sort of activity occurred, all to Aziraphale’s quiet mirth. And then he started suggesting if the angel would rather not sleep with him if he was bothered by it….Aziraphale found himself swiftly rejecting the idea, firmly stating he did not mind one bit. And if he spotted the easing of shoulders and a lingering smile, as Crowley offered to take them out to lunch, then Aziraphale delighted in it only as payment for the near-scare of the incident*.

(*Excuses, Excuses.)

The angel easily got used to the demon's nightly treks, initially following out of concern and eventually just leaving Crowley to his own devices as he never seemed to be doing anything particularly dangerous. He also never missed an opportunity in the morning to relay the events to Crowley himself, as if narrating a tale of a hero's quest rather than an occult entity's human tendency to saunter clumsily in his sleep. 

It was mainly either walking to the kitchen or the throne room, on a memorable occasion opening the fridge scanning for nothing in particular, or wandering in the plant room*. Yet, even for all his teasing, Aziraphale was really touched that Crowley trusted him enough to keep insisting they retire at night together, knowing the angel would watch over him when he was his most vulnerable. It made him adore Crowley all the more.

(*Well, wander would be generous, more like bumping into pots, trying to swear but coming out unintelligible, making an effort to water the plants but always missing the spray bottle by just a smidge, yet imitating spraying anyway; Aziraphale especially couldn’t hold his laughter in during those.)

Since Crowley’s sleep walk would usually begin with the demon sitting up and getting out of bed lethargically and then approaching the door, Aziraphale was not prepared at the abrupt jerk the body besides him gave this night. His head whipped around, finding the demon’s body hunched over and a slight tremor reverberating down his spine. _Something is wrong_ , a voice rang out in his head. But before the angel could lay a comforting hand on the demon's arm, the latter sprung off the bed and hurriedly, albeit shakily, made his way towards the balcony. 

More than alarmed, Aziraphale too clambered out of bed and fastened his pace to stand in front of Crowley’s path. He still appeared to be sleeping as Aziraphale laid a hand on his chest to signal him to stop. But now his shivers were becoming more pronounced and Aziraphale could make out tiny whimpers coming from his mouth as if the angel's touch was causing him pain, the traces of tears shining in his unfocused eyes. Hastily, he removed his hand but that only caused the demon to march forwards on wobbling legs once more. 

At a loss of what to do and trying to keep the surging fear from breaking his own composure, Aziraphale crept out on the balcony behind Crowley. The London city lights spread out below them, the silence of the night carrying the quietest sounds through the wind. Crowley still had not stopped advancing, and soon he would collide with the railing... Aziraphale shivered at the thought. He was beside and then in front of Crowley in a blink, contemplating whether he should risk waking the demon up, he had no desire to witness where this particular walk was leading him. 

Before he could reach a conclusion, Crowley had side stepped around him, still determined to get to the edge. Throwing caution into the wind and making a split-second decision, Aziraphale summoned some divine energy into his palms, hoping with the sting of it would snap him out of it, while the miracle would render the dangers of walking up less effective. 

Aziraphale briskly walked up behind Crowley and slipped one hand across his chest, trapping both his arms, the other wounding up to the side of Crowley’s forehead and pressing lightly. A subtle glow illuminated his hands for a minute, before he heard Crowley take in a deep breath. He squeezed his eyes, resting his forehead against his demon’s back*, and waited for a few breaths before he heard and _felt_ Crowley’s shaky exhale of his name.

_"Aziraphale…"_

“It’s okay, it’s alright. I’m here, my dear” Aziraphale replied just as softly.

(*Yes the possessive noun was intentional.)

They stood on the balcony for a few more minutes, feeling the chill of the air, reminding them both they were still _here,_ the Earth was still here, everything was _._

Crowley turned in Aziraphale’s hold, twisting till they were embracing properly. The demon's face hidden in the angel’s curls. Aziraphale did not want to disturb the peace, it felt _so nice_ to be held, but he also knew he couldn’t go without addressing the delicate situation. Though judging by Crowley’s still slightly shivering frame, he settled on addressing it in the morning.

For now he slowly, gently, guided Crowley back to bed. Tucking him in as he had done on so many nights now, but this time Crowley was fully aware, staring at him unfairly softly. He walked over to his own side of the bed and clicked off the lamp, getting into the covers and turning to face Crowley. 

He was watching Aziraphale with a poorly hidden curiosity, and Aziraphale summoned all his latent courage to spread his hands in an inviting gesture and was momentarily stunned at the sudden push of another body against his. Crowley wasted no time in coiling around the angel and gave one last squeeze before falling lax and the lull of sleep pulled him under. Aziraphale for his part held his demon as close as he could and stroked through his hair, his back, till sunrise.

Both of them were expecting a Talk* in the morning, but the air of slight awkwardness was quickly resolved with a few comforting words from Aziraphale and Crowley’s eventual admission of having occasional nightmares. While they did not come up with any solid solution to this**, the angel did suggest a repeat of last night’s snuggling***, which the demon was more than eager to agree to.

(*Also in capital letters.)

(**Aziraphale refused to use another miracle.)

(***Crowley naturally would not admit to that as snuggling out loud, ever)

There was an immediate noticeable difference once they both started sleeping entangled in one another: Crowley’s night time excursions had almost minimised to nothing. Aziraphale didn't mind the change however; his beloved demon's sleep talk was just as endearing after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was a thing! Hopefully all you lovely readers enjoyed, thanks for reading and definitely check out usedtobehmc on Instagram and twitter! 
> 
> Edit: I was waiting for this to upload for over an hour because apparently the network becomes extremely unreliable at the moment (holds back tears).


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